PLAIN JANE 


BY 

HORACE ANNESLEY VACHELL 

M 


NEW 
GEORGE H. 


york 

DORAN COMPANY 





COPYRIGHT, 1024, 

BY HORACE ANNESLEY VACHELL 


©Cl A801992 

PLAIN JANE 
— B — 

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 


SEP 25 1924 

k * 



PLAIN JANE 


I 

L ORD PENDRAGON—prince of bankers and 
j banker of princes—paused on the threshold 
* of the door. 

“A last word, my dear; remember that you will 
go in to dinner ahead of all the duchesses.” 

He murmured this with a faintly ironical smile. 
As the door closed behind his portly, ambassa¬ 
dorial form, Jane Timpany laughed, repeating in 
a whisper:— 

“ Ahead of all the duchesses!” 

She glanced about her. In the big, over-deco¬ 
rated drawing-room there was no mirror. In the 
hall below, in the spacious corridors, mirrors 
were conspicuously absent. Visitors had noticed 
this. 

‘ ‘ So many beautiful women come to this charm¬ 
ing house, Jenny. Your mother and you give 
them everything of the best, except the pleasure 
of beholding themselves and their frocks.” 

Jane Timpany would reply, coldly:— 

“I dislike looking-glasses.” 

All the Timpanys had been plain people, physi¬ 
cally and mentally robust, born and bred money¬ 
makers and money-savers. Thomas, Jane’s fa¬ 
ther, had married a woman nearly as rich as him¬ 
self, out of another cotton-spinning family. Dur- 


4 


PLAIN JANE 


ing the war Jane lost her two brothers. After the 
war Thomas Timpany sold his mills, and, having 
nothing to engross his energies, died. 

Bachelors, eligible and ineligible, had proposed 
marriage to Jane. To all and sundry she said, 
curtly, “No.” 

Finally, upon this eventful afternoon, a semi¬ 
royalty, by proxy, had flung his handkerchief at 
her feet. His Highness, whom Jane had met only 
twice, was apparently heels over head in love with 
“les beaux yeux de sa casette.” A Minister Pleni¬ 
potentiary, discretion incarnate, had refused to 
carry “No” to a Personage! 

As a butler and two tall footmen were expedit¬ 
ing the departure of his lordship, Jane ascended a 
marble staircase to her bedroom. Here she sur¬ 
veyed herself dispassionately in a cheval glass. 
As she did so, she exclaimed once more:— 

“Ahead of all the duchesses!” 

And then, in a whisper:— 

“Plain Jane!” 

The adjective provoked a smile, and the smile 
had charm. Humorous lines revealed themselves 
round a large mouth; too small eyes twinkled. 
She curtsied to herself:— 

“Your Highness!” 

Presently she went to her mother’s room. Mrs. 
Timpany surveyed her daughter shrewdly. 

“Well, Jenny?” 

# Jane sat down, staring at her mother’s whim¬ 
sical countenance. 

“Lord Pendragon says that the Prince wants to 
marry me. He is coming back for a definite an¬ 
swer in a fortnight’s time. If I am to be sold to 
the highest bidder, mother, I might do worse. I 
should dominate him; he would not dominate me.” 

“He might try, my dear.” 


PLAIN JANE 5 

“I said ‘No’; but our banker thinks I shall 
change my mind. I sha’n’t.” 

Mrs. Timpany smiled. 

“When St. Peter asks me what I have done, I 
shall tell him that I brought into the world a sen¬ 
sible girl who refused to peacock about Mayfair 
as a princess.’’ 

Mrs. Timpany spoke with a slight Lancashire 
burr. Her maternal grandmother had run about 
Oldham bareheaded, wearing the clogs, the wool¬ 
len skirt, and the shawl still to be seen in the 
streets of that industrial centre. 

Jane said, incisively:— 

‘ ‘ My money will make an old maid of me.’ 9 

“When I was your age, dear, I wanted a man. 
I’ve no patience with women who say they don’t.” 

“You were married for yourself, mother.” 

“Yes—and no better-looking than you are. If 
you remain an old maid, Jenny, whatever shall we 
do with our money?” 

“I’m not going to be married for my money. 
That’s that.” 

Mrs. Timpany picked up a letter lying upon her 
lap. 

“You have heard me speak, Jenny, of the Tol- 
letfields climbed the hill together before I was 

“Dozens of times,” replied Jane. 

“I have had a letter, a begging letter, from 
William Tollerfield. The Timpanys and the Tol- 
lerfields climbed the hil ltogether before I was 
born. Poor William seems to have tumbled down 
the hill. Read his letter, dear.” 

Jane read as follows:— 

“Dear Madam,— 

“I take the liberty, as a friend of your late hus¬ 
band, to ask for financial assistance. We never 


6 


PLAIN JANE 


met, but I married, you may remember, a school¬ 
mate of yours, long since dead. Happily, mis¬ 
fortune never touched her. My father made the 
mistake of educating me as a man of leisure. The 
fortune left to me by him is gone. To-day I am 
a helpless invalid and almost hopeless. A grant 
in aid from you would sweeten my adversity. I 
enclose letters from my doctor and from the local 
clergyman which establish identity. 

44 1 remain, 

4 4 Faithfully yours, 

4 4 W ILLIAM T OLLERFIELD. ’ ’ 

) 

Jane stared at the leter. The handwriting was 
firm. Mrs. Timpany added a few words:— 

4 4 The doctor says that his patient is in mean 
lodgings, suffering from arthritis. The parson 
says that the writer is known to him as William 
Tollerfield, son of Henry Tollerfield, of Oldham.” 

4 4 What do you want to do, mother ? 1 ’ 

4 4 He was a friend of your father/’ 

44 Did father ever help him?” 

44 1 don’t know. You’re not getting hard, are 
you, Jenny?” 

4 4 We receive so many appeals, mother. We 
have been let down so often.” 

4 4 He married, as he says, a girl I knew, a nice 
girl. There was a son. He doesn’t mention the 
son. Perhaps he is dead, too, killed in the war. 
We—we ought to do something.” 

Jane glanced at the letter. 

4 4 Mr. Tollerfield writes from Puddiford-on-Sea, 
near Cronmouth.” 

4 4 Yes, Jenny. If we slipped down there and in¬ 
vestigated this case at first hand-” 

44 If you like.” 

4 4 Incog.! ’ ’ 


PLAIN JANE . 


7 


“Mother! What an idea!” 

‘"Our fashionable friends will think we have 
gone abroad.” 

“It would be an adventure, mother. We—we 
should get away from our money for a few days, 
shouldn’t we?” 

“Yes, dear.” 

Within three days, two ladies, who signed the 
register as Mrs. and Miss Stroud, took modest 
rooms at the Ivanhoe Hotel, a select boarding¬ 
house on the front at Puddiford-on-Sea. 


II 

J ANE was astounded, and amused, by the 
startling change in her mother. Mrs. Tim- 
pany became almost frisky as Mrs. Stroud, 
and was accepted by the other boarders as an ad¬ 
dition to their circle. 

Within twenty-four hours Jane wandered down 
the street, not facing the front, where William 
Tollertield lived in mean lodgings. A dingy win¬ 
dow exhibited a sign: Apartments. Greatly dar¬ 
ing, Jane rang the bell. The mistress of the house 
opened the door. 

“If you have rooms vacant, I should like to see 
them,” said Jane. 

‘ ‘ Pray walk in, madam. ’ ’ 

Gentility informed harsh tones. Jane leapt to 
the conclusion that the landlady might have been 
a lady’s maid who had known happier days. She 
eyed Jane sharply, as she murmured:— 

“My best rooms are vacant.” 

Jane inspected two bedrooms and a shabby sit¬ 
ting-room. Then she heard a familial sound, the 


8 PLAIN JANE 

clicking of a typewriting machine. Jane looked 
up, listening, as the landlady explained:— 

“Typist. Not overworked, neither! Supports 
his father.” 

William Tollerfield’s letter had not been type¬ 
written. Jane said, tentatively:— 

‘ ‘ Is the father an invalid *?’ 9 

The landlady, not at all garrulous, nodded, shak¬ 
ing her head dolorously. Jane was meditating an¬ 
other question, when the clicking stopped. An in¬ 
stant later a step was heard upon the stairs. 

“I beg your pardon.” 

A man about thirty stood upon the threshold of 
the sitting-room. 

“I am going out,” he said, pleasantly. “My 
father will not disturb you unless it is necessary.” 

“Very good, Mr. Tollerfield.” 

Jane sat down. She had liked the tones of a 
voice which had “supporting” quality. 

“Unusual name—Tollerfield.” 

The landlady, beguiled by Jane’s smile, became 
more communicative. The fact that Jane was 
sitting in the best arm-chair suggested business. 
Up to this moment intuition had told her that her 
rooms were not quite good enough for this quietly- 
dressed lady. Still—one never knew! 

“It is a shame, I say, that a clever young man 
should be tied tight to a crippled father. Ought 
to be on his own. But there! It’s none of my 
business. Do you fancy the roms, madam*?” 

Jane replied evasively:— 

‘ ‘ I will speak to my mother about them . 9 9 

Terms were discussed. Jane returned to the 
Ivanhoe Hotel, anticipating maternal objections 
to any move for the worse. Really all that could 
be said of the rooms might be included in one sen¬ 
tence : ‘ ‘ They are perfectly clean . 9 9 


PLAIN JANE 9 

Mrs. Timpany, looking like an alert robin, be¬ 
came interested in young Mr. Tollerfield. 

‘ 4 Good stock/ ’ she declared. “I suppose we 
ought to find out more before we help.” 

“That is my idea, mother. Are you sure that 
the father won’t recognize you?” 

“We never met, Jenny. I’m ready to go where 
you want to go. ” 

So they went. 


Ill 

N OTHING happened for a day or two. 

The son, whose name, so Jane discov¬ 
ered, was John, seemed to be of a retiring 
disposition. Not so the father, who in his youth 
had pushed himself everywhere. Now, he was 
pushed, like a baby in an immense “pram,” by his 
son—generally along the front for two hours 
every afternoon. In the morning the continual 
clicking of the typewriting machine indicated lit¬ 
erary labours. The landlady informed Jane that 
the Tollerfields sent off and received many letters. 
Jane was not surprised when the landlady whis¬ 
pered to her:— 

“It’s my belief, miss, that the old man is a gen¬ 
teel beggar.” 

“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Jane. 

On top of this disconcerting affirmation, ac¬ 
quaintance was “scraped” between the Toiler- 
fields and the Strouds. Garrulous old age met 
over a dish of tea. Mr. William Tollerfield spoke 
of the far north. Quite incidentally, he mentioned 
the Timpanys. 

“You’ve heard of the Timpanys?” he asked. 
“Who hasn’t?” 


10 


PLAIN JANE 


“ Purse-proud snobs, madam. ” 

Jane winced, expecting an explosion from her 
mother. To her surprise, Mrs. Timpany’s sense 
of humour rose to the occasion. 

“Are they?” 

“Pinchers, my dear lady. Tom Timpany is 
dead. The women, mother and daughter, are roll¬ 
ing in money. Between ourselves, I—William 
Tollerfield, an old friend—applied for a small— 
er—grant in aid. What happened to my letter?” 

“Tell me.” 

“Waste-paper basket!” 

“Too bad!” 

Jane observed, mildly:— 

‘ i Probably these-’ 9 

‘ 4 Timpanys . 9 9 

“Yes. These Timpanys, I dare say, receive 
such appeals by the dozen every day. But if you 

had a particular claim on them-” Her voice 

died away, but she glanced at John’s impassive 
face. He answered curtly:— 

“My father’s claim was the appeal of Misfor¬ 
tune to Fortune.” 

Having said this, John’s lips closed. His father 
embroidered the theme; and as he warmed to his 
work, Jane recognized in him some of the qualities 
of Mr. Micawber. j 

“To relieve necessity is a privilege accorded by 
Omnipotence to the rich. Personally, I share 
Heine’s opinion— 

“Whose?” 

“Heinrich Heine. A Hun, but he lived in Paris. 
He said that if you wanted to know what God 
really thought of millionaires you had only to 
look at them.” 

The Timpanys looked at each other. William 
Tollerfield continued blandly:— 



PLAIN JANE 


11 


“My friend Timpany married a plain woman, 
and their daughter, so I’m told, has a face like a 
nutmeg-grater. ’ ’ 

Even under this provocation, Mrs. Timpany 
murmured softly:— 

“Handsome is as handsome does.” 

‘‘Just so, madam, just so. I—er—was prepared 
to regard Jane Timpany as Anadyomene-” 

“Anna- V 9 

“Venus rising from the sea, my dear lady, 
lovely and lovable, had she responded to my 
S.O.S. signal.” 

“Did you ask Mrs. Timpany to save your soul, 
Mr. Tollerfield!” 

Thus Jane—with a tincture of acerbity. John 
glanced at her sharply. 

“You are sarcastic, Miss Stroud, at the expense 
of age and infirmity.” 

“No, no. But,” her voice hardened, “from 
what your father has just said, I inferred that the 
rich might save their souls if they exercised the 
privilege of saving the bodies of the poor . 9 9 

William Tollerfield chuckled:— 

“I couldn’t have put that more neatly myself.” 

Harmony was restored, although John, with a 
vehemence which surprised Jane, plunged into an 
indictment of the rich. When he finished Mrs. 
Timpany said, slyly:— 

“According to you, young man, God helps those 
who help themselves out of other folks’ piles.” 

Again the infirm William chuckled. A minute 
later father and son went upstairs. 



12 


PLAIN JANE 


rv; 


A LONE with her mother, Jane exhibited in¬ 
dignation. Mrs. Timpany laughed at a too 
* serious face. 

“I’m so sorry for them.” 

“You are always surprising, mother.” 

“So your dear father said. I should like to sur¬ 
prise these people.” 

“Howl” 

“If we sent them a hundred pounds-” 

“Absurd!” 

“Would they relieve our necessities!” 

Jane grappled with the issues. 

“What a test!” 

Mrs. Timpany nodded. Jane exclaimed:— 
“How wonderful of you to get fun out of such 
a situation!” 

i 1 1 suppose I could whine, Jenny, if I tried hard 
enough.’ ’ 

“I’d like to see you at it.” 

“You shall. Really, this is gingering me up. 
I think plain food agrees with plain people.” 

They talked with animation for half an hour. 
Long before that it was agreed that a hundred 
pounds should be sent to the old friend of Thomas 
Timpany. A letter was written:— 

“Dear Sir,— 

“My daughter and I regret that your letter of 
the 28th ult. was not answered more promptly. 
We are satisfied that you have a claim upon us. 
Kindly acknowledge the enclosed cheque, which 
we hope will serve to sweeten your sad life. 
“Faithfully yours, 

“Bertha Timpany.” 


PLAIN JANE 


13 


As Mrs. Timpany was writing out the cheque, 
Jane observed reflectively:— 

“It’s a good deal to pay for a bit of fun.” 

“I like the young man,” replied her mother. 


V 

D UPING the days that passed between the 
sending of this letter (from London) and 
its delivery at Puddiford-on-Sea, acquaint¬ 
ance between the Tollerfields and the Strouds 
ripened into intimacy. 

LTpon the Tuesday morning the letter arrived. 
Joyous notes of exclamation were plainly heard in 
the parlour beneath. 

“He’s got it,” observed Mrs. Timpany. 

“What will he do with it?” demanded Jane. 
“We shall be invited to tea.” 

They were, and an excellent tea was provided. 
A cheque may be as rejuvenating as the Voronoff 
treatment. The infirm William beamed upon his 
guests, as John handed round the friandises sent 
in by the local confectioner. 

‘ ‘ This is a farewell entertainment. ’ ’ 

“We are faring very well, Mr. Tollerfield, but 
—what do you mean?” 

‘ ‘ My son and I are thinking of moving to better 
lodgings facing the sea.” 

“Really? You might do worse than the Ivan- 
hoe. We moved from there here.” Mrs. Tim¬ 
pany sighed. She continued with an unmistak¬ 
able whine: “Not expensive, you understand, but 
beyond our diminishing means.” 

Jane “played up.” 

“Now, mother, this is not the moment to im¬ 
pose our troubles upon Mr. Tollerfield.” 


14 


PLAIN JANE 


“Troubles?” repeated Mr. Tollerfield. “Well, 
well, it is a relief sometimes to talk of one’s trou¬ 
bles. A firm faith in Providence has always sus¬ 
tained me. At the same time, crippled as I am, 
I have fought my troubles. You behold me, 
madam, bloody but unbowed. Another cup of 
teal” 

“ Thank you. If you would give me, also, ad¬ 
vice -” 

“The fruit of your own experience,” added 
Jane. 

Slightly uneasy, Mr. Tollerfield said, briskly:— 

“Certainly. With—er—pleasure.” 

“We may have to move to humbler lodgings. 
Money due to us has not been paid. Under such 
circumstances, ought we to apply for help to cer¬ 
tain friends? You applied to those-” She 

glanced at John. 

‘ ‘ Timpanys! ’ ’ 

“Yes, yes. And they basketed you.” 

For an instant there was silence, a silence sig¬ 
nificant to the Timpanys. Jane looked at John. 
Mrs. Timpany’s twinkling brown eyes rested upon 
the genial William. John’s cheeks flushed. By 
this time Jane had recognized in him the quality 
of altruism. Of his devotion to an exacting father 
there could be no question. The rich may be 
pardoned when they cock a doubtful eyebrow at 
what appears to be unselfishness. Probably they 
have reason behind the conviction that most 
people grind their own axes. Within ten minutes 
Jane had summed up the infirm William as a 
“faux bonhomme .” John, on the other hand, de¬ 
fied a spinster’s analysis. 

William spoke first. 

“We have heard from the Timpanys. My— 
er—claim upon their consideration has been recog- 



PLAIN JANE 15 

nizecl. In point of fact, a grant in aid came this 
morning. ’ ’ 

Mrs. Timpany said, quietly: ‘‘ How nice! Makes 
one think better of the world, doesn’t it!” 

William nodded majestically. 

4 ‘I take the world as I find it, dear lady!” 

‘ ‘ Taking, ’’ thought Jane, 1 ‘ is his hobby! What 
a man!” 

John exclaimed explosively: “I regret what I 
said about the Timpanys. They have been most 
generous—astoundingly, confoundingly so!” 

4 ‘How nice!” repeated Mrs. Timpany, sooth¬ 
ingly. 4 ‘What you tell me makes it easier for 
me!” 

“For us,” added Jane. 

The astute William betrayed nervousness; his 
nose twitched, scenting importunity. 

“You mean that you will be emboldened to 
apply to your friends for some—er—slight assist¬ 
ance. An appeal—discreetly worded ” 

He paused. Obviously, out of a rich vocabu¬ 
lary, he was considering phrases. 

“I—I have never appealed to—to anybody,” 
murmured Mrs. Timpany. 

William, apparently much moved, exclaimed: 
“7 9 m at your service.” 

Jane, with a side-glance at John, said, grate¬ 
fully: “Oh, Mr. Tollerfield, we—we couldn’t ac¬ 
cept a grant in aid from you, but how sweet of you 
to think of it.” 

William inflated. 

“No, no. I appreciate your delicacy, but I —I 
will word this appeal for you. It will be a mourn¬ 
ful pleasure to do so.” 

‘ ‘ But I can’t think to whom I could apply, ’ ’ said 
Mrs. Timpany, despairingly. “Ten pounds would 
tide us over a distressing fortnight, but-” 


16 


PLAIN JANE 


Jane added with dignity, “We have no near 
relations. Our rich friends—for reasons which 
we need not go into—would hardly believe that 
we, mother and I, really wanted ten pounds.’’ 

William nodded like the Olympian Jupiter as he 
suggested, “An overdraft at your bankers’?” 

“We have never asked our bankers to allow us 
an overdraft. It might upset them,” faltered 
Mrs. Timpany. 

William cleared his throat and vision. 

“You have asked for my advice. I reply, un¬ 
hesitatingly, write to the T imp any s.” 

He folded his hands upon an ample paunch. 

“I will dictate a letter—here and now. John!” 

“Father!” 

“Your note-book.” As John rose from the tea- 
table, William, now master of the situation, said 
incisively: “Ten pounds is a bagatelle. Friends 
and relations should be kept in—er —reserve for 
more serious exigencies. Ha! An idea! Are you 
ready, John?” 

John, pencil in hand, nodded, but he looked—so 
Jane thought—ill at ease. 

“Take this down, my boy, as a rough draft. 
One moment!” He closed his eyes, smiling gra¬ 
ciously. 

“Yes, yes: I have it. You told me, Mrs. Stroud, 
that you came from the north country. You men¬ 
tioned Oldham in the course of conversation. 
Oldham shall be the keystone of our arch. Now! 
‘Dear Madam,—You will be surprised that a 
stranger should venture to address you, to entreat 
from you sorely needed help. Nothing, save the 
fact that your generosity and beneficence are 
known throughout the Kingdom’—capital K for 
Kingdom, John—‘justifies me in making this’— 


PLAIN JANE 


17 


I want an adjective Yes—I have it— 'poign¬ 
ant appeal. Like yourself, I am a widow with one 
daughter. I was born in Oldham’; underline that, 
John-” 

“Were you bom in Oldham, mother?” asked 
J ane. 

“I was born not far from Oldham, Jenny. 
Does it matter ?” 

“Not a bit,” replied William. “A touch of 
local colour. I continue— 4 1 was born in Oldham. 
At the moment I am stranded in—er—mean lodg¬ 
ings at Puddiford-on-Sea, where, by a Providen¬ 
tial coincidence, I have made the acquaintance of 
the Tollerfields. Mr. William Tollerfield has 
spoken to me in confidence of you and your daugh¬ 
ter. What he said cannot, of course, be repeated, 
but I gleaned ’—gleaned is quite good!—‘ I gleaned 
from Mr. Tollerfield that you were one who— 
who- 9 ” 

Jane finished the sentence. 

“ Did not hurl such letters as this into the void 
of the waste-paper basket.” 

“Put it down, John.” 

John did so. 

“We pause for a suitable climax,” said 
William, once more closing his eyes. “Yes— 
yes—this will serve. ‘I am expecting within a 
few days a remittance.’ That is the truth, 
madam, isn’t it?” 

“It is,” murmured Mrs. Timpany. 

“ ‘But, alas! I may be constrained by neces¬ 
sity to seek even humbler lodgings before the re¬ 
mittance reaches me. Will you help me with a 
loan of ten pounds, which I pledge myself to re¬ 
turn? Mr. Tollerfield would, I know, permit me 
to cite him as a reference and-” 




18 


PLAIN JANE 


John stood up. He tore from the notebook the 
sheet of pencillings, crumpled it up, and hurled it 
into the Tollerfield waste-paper basket. 

“ Explain yourself,” commanded William. 

“That reference to us. It’s too thick. I—I 
can’t stick it, father. I—I will lend ten pounds 
gladly to Mrs. Stroud-” 

“You?” 

Obviously William was astounded that his son 
should have ten pounds to lend. He was glaring 
at John. Mrs. Timpany rose, and, with her, Jane. 
As quickly John hastened to the door and 
opened it. 

“I quite understand,” said Mrs. Timpany. 

“So do I!” said Jane. 

“But I don’t!” thundered an angry father. 

The ladies withdrew. 


VI 

S AFE in the sanctuary of the shabby parlour, 
Mrs. and Miss Timpany heard voices raised 
in altercation. 

“I am not disappointed in John,” observed 
Mrs. Timpany. “He takes after his dear mother, 
a very unselfish woman.” 

“We have squandered a hundred pounds, 
mother.” 

“No, Jenny. Our money has been invested. 
But—don’t ask any bothering questions yet.” 
“I hear John’s step on the stairs.” 

“Really? How do you know that it is John’s? 
As you do know, I will leave you to deal with 
him. ’ ’ 

There was a tap on the door. Mrs. Timpany 
fled into her bedroom; Jane said “Come in.” 


PLAIN JANE 


19 


John came in, still flushed of cheek. Jane indi¬ 
cated a chair. The young man hesitated, glanced 
at an impassive countenance, and sat down. 

“Is it necessary to say anything?” asked Jane, 
calmly. 

“Yes. Miss Stroud, I am sure that you are an 
understanding person, but you can't know all the 
unhappy facts. Mrs. and Miss Timpany sent my 
father one hundred pounds.” 

“No doubt they could afford to do so.” 

“That is not the point.” 

“I think I see your point.” 

“I'm sure you do. Out of one hundred pounds 
my father might well have spared ten pounds to— 
to help you. But I am not here to pass judgment 
on him. I beg you to accept, as a temporary loan, 
ten pounds from me. I shall take it as unfriendly 
of you if you don't!” 

Jane said hurriedly, “I will accept that in—in 
the spirit which offers it.” 

John handed her an envelope. Then he said, 
stiffly, “The generosity of the Timpanys, Miss 
Stroud, has swept some cobwebs out of my mind. 
You may have regarded me as a Bolshy.” 

“Oh, no.” 

Her rare smile encouraged him to go on. “I 
would not have you think ill of my poor father, 
but, in spite of his infirmities, he remains genial 
and even gay. That is something, isn’t it?” 

A pathetic interrogation touched Jane. 

“It is—much,” she assented. 

“When that cheque arrived this morning, he 
was the first to suggest that he might engage a 
man-nurse to relieve me, to—to leave me free to 
fight for my own hand.” 

“How do you propose to do that?” 

“I am counting on the Timpanys. ^ They have 


20 


PLAIN JANE 


placed me under obligations. I would serve them 
faithfully. I am more than a mere typist and 
stenographer. In acknowledging receipt of that 
cheque, I have placed myself unreservedly at their 
service. It would be a great honour to work for 
them. ’ ’ 

‘ 4 You have told your father V’ 

“Not yet.” 

‘ ‘ Why have you told me ? ’’ 

He remained silent, lifting eloquent eyes to 
hers. 

Jane murmured, “This is a proof of—friend¬ 
ship ? ’ ’ 

“Yes.” 

Obviously the young man was shy. Jane 
blushed as he exclaimed, “I am so glad you are 
poor, Miss Stroud.” 

“I don’t know how to take that.” 

“I mean that it makes friendship between us 
possible. Will you accept me as your friend?” 

“Yes,” said Jane, firmly. “Now tell me in 
what way you can serve these—Timpanys.” 

“I’m an expert accountant, Miss Stroud. I had 
to leave a famous firm of actuaries to look after 
my father when he was stricken down with 
inflammatory rheumatism. They would vouch 
for me. As an accountant, a confidential secre¬ 
tary-” 

“Quite,” said Jane. “But it is certain that 
the Timpanys, being women, leave the manage¬ 
ment of their affairs in competent hands.” 

“They must be more or less at the mercy of 
unscrupulous persons. If—if I could save them 
from being imposed upon.” 

“That is a brain-wave,” said Jane. 

John, however, refused to talk further about 
himself. With pressing insistency he asked many 


PLAIN JANE 


21 


questions indicating sympathetic interest in Mrs. 
and Miss Stroud. Jane, not being an accom¬ 
plished liar, told the truth with discreet veilings. 
She admitted that life had been difficult, a series 
of compromises. 

4 ‘We all want—romance.” 

Each, in turn, defined romance. They parted 
to meet again in a shelter upon the Marine Pa¬ 
rade, not a romantic spot. John read the rough 
draft of a letter to Mrs. Timpany. Jane said de¬ 
murely that she thought it would do. 

“You have shown it to your father, Mr. Toller- 
field ?” 

“No, no. He would have insisted on writing it 
himself.’ ’ 

“Probably Mrs. Timpany will suggest a per¬ 
sonal interview, if—if she understands all that 
you have left unwritten/’ 

John perceived that Jane was smiling. Her 
smile percolated through sensitive tissues. He 
decided that he had never seen such an all- 
weather smile. He seized Jane’s firm hand and 
pressed it. Jane blushed for the second time that 
day, recalling what her mother had said about 
this young man’s mother. Obviously he had in¬ 
herited much from her. 

“What would you do,” asked Jane, irrele¬ 
vantly, “if you were rich enough to do what you 
like?” 

He replied fervently, “I should ask you to 
marry me.” 

“Mr. Tollerfield!” 

“I beg your pardon, Miss Stroud, but I cannot 
disguise my feelings.” He spoke so sorrowfully 
that Jane’s smile came back. 

4 4 Evidently you can’t, ’ ’ she murmured. 

John said hastily, “I have nailed my flag to the 


22 PLAIN JANE 

mast. You know now how it is with me. Ac¬ 
cept me-” 

“Accept you?” 

“On ‘appro.’ I may make good. I may not. 
These blessed Timpanys have saved the situation. 
I can go back to work. Back of my work you 
stand. Have I forfeited your friendship?” 
“N-n-no.” 

“Fine!” He spoke briskly, regarding her with 
shining eyes. “We—we carry on, as we were, 

till-” 

“Till-?” 

“Till I get a sign from you.” 

She nodded, slightly bewildered. A more 
sophisticated lover might have accepted that nod 
as a sign. Jane stood up. 

“I will go back to my mother.” 

In exciting silence they strolled towards their 
lodgings. 


VII 

I NVARIABLY punctual, Lord Pendragon pre¬ 
sented his august person to Miss Timpany 
when the time limit imposed by him had ex¬ 
pired. He looked portentously bland when the 
butler told him that Mrs. Timpany and Miss Tim¬ 
pany had returned to Prince’s Gate the day 
before. 

Jane received him, looking, so he thought, re¬ 
juvenated. As the butler was leaving the draw¬ 
ing-room, she said, disconcertingly: “I am ex¬ 
pecting a Mr. Tollerfield, Judkins. He will ask 
to see my mother. But you can show him up 
here.” 

Judkins withdrew. 



PLAIN JANE 23 

Lord Pendragon extended two white plump 
hands. 

“My dear young lady, am I to be the first to 
congratulate you ! ’ ’ 

“Upon what!” 

“Upon your engagement to His Serene High¬ 
ness! He was pleased, let me tell you, at your 
maidenly hesitation. And so, quite frankly, 
was I.” 

“But I didn’t hesitate. I said i No.’ ” 

Lord Pendragon shrugged his shoulders. 

“I took that ‘No’ as 4 Perhaps.’ ” 

“If I had said 1 Perhaps’-” 

“Ah! You smile. All is well.” 

He sat down as Jane, still smiling, sank into 
billowy cushions. He was thinking that this 
young woman intended to surrender, but not un¬ 
conditionally. He noticed that Jane glanced at 
a magnificent Louis XV. clock. 

“You came back yesterday. You were expect¬ 
ing me!” 

“Yes. It is kind of you, Lord Pendragon, to be 
so interested in finding me a husband. But—do 
you really know the right man when you see him!” 

The famous banker screwed an eyeglass into 
his eye. Mellifluously, he stated that such knowl¬ 
edge was his inalienable possession. 

“You know men,” admitted Jane, “but do you 
know women!” 

Wisely, Lord Pendragon hesitated. Jane went 
on: “Pomps and vanities have never appealed to 
me. My father’s money is a terrible responsi¬ 
bility. ’ ’ 

“A husband would relieve you, my dear, of that 
responsibility.” 

As he spoke Jane’s eyes wandered once more to 
the clock. 


24 


PLAIN JANE 


“I am expecting a young man at four. He has 
applied for the post of confidential secretary. As 
my father’s friend, as our friend and banker, is 
it too much to ask you to see him!” 

Lord Pendragon assured Jane that it would be 
a privilege. 

“I shall leave you before he comes. I shall be 
in the next room. I want you to talk to him. I 
want your honest opinion of him as a man. He 
has worked for a well-known firm of actuaries, 
and I—mother and I—thought that he might deal 
honestly and faithfully with all the appeals that 
are made to us. Your opinion of him would carry 
weight with us.” 

‘ ‘ Delighted to help your mother and you. ’ ’ 

“You will see him first!” 

■ ‘ Certainly. ’ 9 

‘ 1 If—if he satisfies you that he can relieve us of 
these ever-increasing responsibilities, you can tell 
me so, and then I will see him.” 

“You are a very sensible young woman.” 

‘ ‘ Thank you. He has just come . 9 9 

Jane escaped as Judkins threw open the door 
and announced majestically: “Mr. Tollerfield, my 
lord.” 


vni 

W ITHIN ten minutes Lord Pendragon de¬ 
livered to Mrs. and Miss Timpany a 
considered verdict. He spoke with low¬ 
ered tone of voice, inasmuch as Mr. Tollerfield 
was in the next room. 

“I am satisfied with this young man. His cre¬ 
dentials, apart from those he carries in his pocket, 


PLAIN JANE 


25 


are printed in indelible ink upon a singularly pre¬ 
possessing face. I say emphatically—'Accept his 
services.’ ” 

"You think him incapable of betraying a 
trust ?” 

"I do. And I am seldom mistaken in my judg¬ 
ments of men. ,, 

Mrs. Timpany observed with dignity: "I knew 
his mother. She was my friend.’’ 

"I will see Mr. Tollerfield, ” said Jane, slowly. 
"Whilst I am seeing him, my mother will explain 
to you why I shall never go in to dinner ahead 
of the duchesses.’’ 


IX 


HEN the astounded John beheld Jane 



his quick wits for the moment failed 


him. It did not occur to him that Jane 


was Miss Timpany. He said, gaspingly:— 

"You? Here?” 

He admitted afterwards that his first over¬ 
whelming conviction was that his humble friend 
had pulled Fortune’s strings. 

"Yes,” replied Jane, softly. "I am here. 
Lord Pendragon is with Mrs. Timpany. You ap¬ 
pear to have satisfied him. All that you wanted 
appears to be yours.” 

“All?” asked John, eagerly. 

"Perhaps—more than you bargained for.” 

But the sign had been given and accepted as 
such. Jane found herself in a lover ’s arms. Pres¬ 
ently he said, wonderingly: "By some extraordi¬ 
nary coincidence, you are, of course, Mrs. Tim¬ 
pany’s companion?” 


26 


PLAIN JANE 


4 ‘Oh, dear, I—I thought you had guessed!” 

He glanced from her face to her frock. 
“Impossible!” he exclaimed, vehemently, as il¬ 
lumination descended on him. 

She smiled at him reassuringly. 

“My man must never say that.” 





















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